


we'll give it a shot

by jurassicqueer (GayQueenOfHell)



Series: take my hand and we'll make it [1]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Bodhi isn't human (spoiler: he's part chinchilla), Cassian cares more than he wants to, M/M, Multi, a series that will focus on rogue one's new family, aftermath of Rogue One, again this is just a setup for the series, and also Bodhi's soft soft ears, insight into chinchilla/human culture, they make it off of Scarif, this is a setup fic for a series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 19:27:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9138139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayQueenOfHell/pseuds/jurassicqueer
Summary: Bodhi Rook, Cassian quickly learns, isthe pilot; however, he is most definitely not human.It’s not wholly unreasonable but admittedly unexpected. He had fallen into the trap of simply assuming Rook was a human pilot, and now that he’s faced with a fluffy tail and round, protruding rodent ears, he’s- well, caught slightly off guard.





	

**Author's Note:**

> watched rogue one a few days ago and was literally sobbing into my sweater as I left bc I got so attached to all of them
> 
> anyway!! i loved the diversity of the cast. love it. so glad there's more representation!
> 
> didn't like how flat Jyn's character felt so I'm gonna do something about it!
> 
> important PSA: so I've decided I'm gonna make Bodhi part chinchilla bc fuck it. Jedha looks like the ideal habitat (needs a higher elevation and more rocks but......) and I honestly love adding ears to my fav characters so. yep. I'm pulling the culture aspect out of my ass, so enjoy! he's gonna be part long tailed chinchilla, feel free to look up photos, they're adorable.

Bodhi Rook, Cassian quickly learns, is  _ the pilot _ ; however, he is most definitely not human.

It’s not wholly unreasonable but admittedly unexpected. He had fallen into the trap of simply assuming Rook was a human pilot, and now that he’s faced with a fluffy tail and round, protruding rodent ears, he’s- well, caught slightly off guard.

“And what species are you, exactly?” Kay asks, a half-there smile on Chirrut’s face as he smooths his fingertips gently over one of Rook’s large ears. The pilot is curled in one of the ship’s seats, a threadbare towel previously used to scrub furiously over his soaked ears in his grasp. It was only now, on their way back to the Resistance base from Eadu, that Cassian- or anybody aboard the ship, really- notices them.

“I’m a Lanigera,” He says, which- Cassian’s never even  _ heard _ of a Lanigera, which is odd in and of itself.

“But you are from Jedha, yes?” Baze asks, looking at the pilot with dark eyes. Rook nods and his tail whisks nervously behind him.

“The Lanigera inhabited Jedha before it became what it was in its final moments,” Chirrut says quietly, having removed his hand from Rook’s ear. It’s a strange and infantile desire, but Cassian wants to run his hand over the soft shell of the pilot’s ear too- and he quickly pushes that thought away, to where it won’t tempt him.

“My- my mother is Lanigeran,” Rook says, and all of a sudden his ears pin flat to his head and his shoulders hitch forward, and Cassian and the others on board realize that his mother is dead now. A sad, strangled whine escapes the pilot and he abruptly turns away, burying his face in his hands.

The air in the hold becomes somber and tense, befitting Jyn Erso’s melancholy glare, and Cassian feels his stomach drop to think about what happened to the people of Jedha.

“Was there any left?” Jyn asks, startling everyone in the hold. “Before the- the Death Star, were there any Lanigeran’s left?”

Bodhi Rook looks up at her in watery, doe-eyed surprise, and sniffs pitifully.

“My- my mother lived in the city, she moved there after she met my father. I don’t know what happened to her tribe.” He says, scrubbing sadly and too roughly at his eyes for Cassian’s taste.

“They were different tribes?” Chirrut asks, leaning forward on his staff, his interest genuine.

“Two m-major tribes, yes,” Bodhi says, uncurling a little, “Outsiders called them- long tails and short tails, I think, my mother belonged to the long tailed tribe. We’re smaller, and have longer tails and bigger ears than the other tribe, and tend to work better with other species- something about being less aggressive, my mother would tell me, but I’ve met so few short tails so I wouldn’t know-”

And even Kay is listening to Bodhi ramble on about his species, because it’s so much easier to listen to his soft, nervous voice detail the difference in culture-  _ “they pierce their tongues, isn’t that strange? And they have the most beautiful jewelry, my mother had some” _ \- than think about the death of the Holy City and Jyn’s father and what the Death Star meant for the fate of the Rebellion and the galaxy.

 

“And- the long tails, at least, my mother would tell me- had the most beautiful music, with soft drums and bells and string instruments, and wonderfully dyed clothes,” Bodhi came alive talking about his species, ears angled forward and tail twitching happily, his excited hand gestures captivating.

“The short tails were more warlike, their drums louder and more violent, but they were more built for it- they were bigger and stronger- and were split into hundreds of different smaller tribes. There was a general peace between the two tribes, not much mingling- I only ever met one short tail, and she-” Bodhi broke off and his face twitched in a peculiar expression, and for a moment Cassian thought he was going to start crying again, but Bodhi’s face just flushed furiously red.

“And she what?” Chirrut asks, his amusement evident, and Baze huffed a quiet laugh from where he sat next to him as Bodhi’s face flushed more violently and he buried his face in his hands. Cassian swallows a chuckle of his own at the mortified look on Bodhi’s flushed face.

“ _ Anyway- _ ” Bodhi says loudly and as firmly as he can, “Females are larger than males, in both tribes, and more aggressive- the tribes and each respective groupings are actually run by females, who are elected through a vote every five human years.” Despite his attempt to distract them from his blush- that still hadn’t faded- Chirrut and Baze had identical smirks on their faces and even Jyn had a small curve to her lips.

And then the comm crackled and the voice of a private came on requesting their position immediately, and the relaxed mood disappeared, and faced with reality once again, no one was in the mood to try and regain it.

  
  
  
  


The ship stank of blood and burned hair and vomit, and Cassian had never been gladder to be there.

Around him humans and other species lay suffering and dying. Those that were able to move through the cramped hold doling out bacta patches and doing what they could. Cassian barely remembers boarding the ship- he remembers Jyn’s arm under his, the burning pain in his leg and his swimming, ducking vision, their desperate, slow trudge across the beach- and he can only hope the others made it out.

“Bodhi-” He breathes, catching one of the individuals still moving around the wrist, “Is Bodhi Rook on board? Chirrut, a blind monk? Baze Malbus?”

They look at him with something like pity and kneel in front of him, a gentle movement brushing hair away from an open wound on his forehead.

“Your pilot is who saved us all,” They say, and gesture one of their spindly limbs across the ship towards an occupied cot and a slumped figure next to it, “And your other friends are there. They’re being taken care of. Rest.”

Their tone is brusque yet gentle, and they move on after spreading a bacta patch over his head wound. As soon as they’re occupied with someone else in the cramped hold he scrambles to his feet, white knuckled grip the only thing keeping him upright, and limps towards the pilot’s cabin.

His head is swimming and his leg on fire, maybe worse than before, but he makes it there and slumps against the back of one of the seats to rest. He sees a set of hands, gripping the controls tight enough to be still, the skin a familiar dark shade.

“Bodhi,” He mumbles, suddenly wanting nothing more than to see someone he knows- someone he’s somehow come to care about in these last few days- and reassure himself that not just he and Jyn made it out.

Cassian drags himself around the co-pilot seat and all but collapses into it, breaths coming in harsh pants, and drops his hand onto one of Bodhi’s.

The pilot doesn’t even look at him, and Cassian hardly recognizes him. His ears are folded back so tightly to his head they look like hair, and burns race up and down his arms and neck like an ugly painting. His eyes are wide and focused completely on the blur of stars ahead of them, hands glued to the controls.

“Bodhi, it’s Cassian,” Cassian says, looking for somewhere that isn’t burned to rest his other hand. “You got us out, we’re safe, we’re all going to be alright-”

Nothing seems to register, and Cassian wonders who the fuck missed their pilot going into shock.

“Bodhi, please, it’s- I’m right here Bodhi, you can relax, we all made it off of Scarif,” He tries again, leaning forward even though he feels precariously balanced as it is, and hesitantly brings his other hand up to rest over Bodhi’s ears.

Bodhi flinches, finally moves, and one wildly shaking hand loosens on the controls. When Cassian pulls his hand away there’s blood on it.

“Set to autopilot,” He says loudly, and when the ship clicks in confirmation, Cassian slips his fingers through Bodhi’s loosened grasp and gently pulls away, his palm resting over the back of Bodhi’s hand.

“Bodhi, please come with me,” Cassian says quietly, and he feels so fucking useless- he’s always had a purpose and a clear plan to fulfill it, and now that he’s on this cramped ship full of dying rebels, he struggles wildly to find a new one. He can’t live without a purpose, he knows it- knows the weariness and misery will drag him under until he drowns- and the only thing he can do a goddamn thing about in this moment is Bodhi’s state.

And even that he’s not so sure about.

“Cassian?” Bodhi mumbles, eyes finally moving to look at him. He looks so small and scared, eyes wide and mouth trembling, his tail fluffed up and pressed against the side of his leg. Something Cassian had only felt a few times before stings in his chest and he vaguely recognizes it as  _ sympathy. _

“Yeah, it’s me,” Cassian says softly, his other hand going under Bodhi’s bicep. He hates the rough, slick feeling of burns under his hand. “Let’s get you checked out.”

Bodhi goes easily with him and after someone looks Bodhi over and treats him to the best of their abilities Cassian lets the pilot lean against him and doesn’t say a word about the pitiful, tremulous whines that reverberate in Bodhi’s throat. He just shuts his eyes and lets his cheek press against the soft, singed fur of Bodhi’s ears.

  
  
  
  


When Cassian comes to Bodhi is gone- as is the cramped ship and smell of death, but that comes second- and he’s lying in a bed of white, the only sound his ragged breathing and the beeps of machinery.

A medical droid is by his side before he even tries to sit up and hands him a glass of water that he promptly downs.

“Where are they?” He asks, medication addled brain too jumbled to order his thoughts easily. “Where’s the rest of Rogue One?”

“All are accounted for,” The droid says, and Cassian nearly faints with relief. “I will inform Senator Mothma that you are conscious. I greatly advise against movement.”

With that the droid leaves. As soon as it’s out the door he’s trying to swing his legs over the side of the cot. His mind is overcome with the single minded focus to find the rest of Rogue One- to make sure himself that they are alright- but as soon as his head is vertical a wave of dizziness and nausea hits him hard enough to take out a Da’an pit fighting beast.

He slumps back onto the bed and stares at the spinning ceiling above him.

He’ll just have to wait, then.

 

He ends up waiting for a long time.

 

When Mon Mothma finally shows up, Cassian is considering trying to get up again despite his previous failed attempt. She takes one look at his face and narrows her eyes.

“Don’t you dare, Captain Andor,” She says, and if he could feel his face- and he wasn’t moments from panicking- Cassian would arrange his features in an innocent expression.

“I want to see the rest of my team.” He says, voice as firm as he can make it. Mothma raises a single eyebrow and settles at the end of his bed. Her expression says  _ your team?  _ In an imperious way Cassian doesn’t like.

“Jyn Erso is the only member of  _ your team _ who is currently upright. The monk was only just removed from his second bacta tank and the pilot is burned enough you couldn’t even make a coat with all his missing and singed fur. You have enough internal injuries to get a month of bedrest. So unless you intend to use the force, no one is going anywhere.” Mothma’s tone is as airy and impartial as always and Cassian glowers at her.

“But I can have them transferred into your room if you promise to stay in bed,” She says suddenly, voice gentling, and it takes a moment for Cassian to actually understand what she’s saying. In that time she stands and smooths her dress with her hands.

“You and your team are heroes, Captain Andor,” She says, and Cassian likes the way “your team” sounds coming from her this time. “I doubt there’s anyone in this base that would deny you a damn thing. Least of all me.”

This time when she leaves he relaxes into his cot, lets his mind settle-  _ they’ll all be here soon,  _ he tells himself,  _ whole and together. _

He feels truly hopeful for the first time in a long, long while.

  
  


“Don’t wake him up, he needs to sleep,” Cassian hears, and when he blinks his eyes open Jyn is sitting on the cot next to his. An ugly bruise reaches up her cheek and she looks exhausted but otherwise unharmed. Baze, a bandage covering his entire, wide chest, grumbles.

“Too late,” Cassian mumbles, and both glance over at him. He pushes himself up, feeling slightly better than before, and glances around the room. Two other cots fill the room, each with their respective yards of machinery, and Cassian feels a pang of concern to see Bodhi and Chirrut so still and small looking.

“They’ll be fine,” Jyn says, taking a few steps to sit on Cassian’s cot instead of Baze’s. “Chirrut’s woken up once already today, and Bodhi drank some water yesterday. The droids say they’re recovering well.”

“How long?” He asks, and Jyn raises her eyebrows at him. “How long since Scarif?” He clarifies, spotting the glass of water on his bedside table and chugging it as swiftly as he can.

“A week. They kept all of you under for most of it, afraid of permanent damage.” She says easily, as if being in a coma for a week after a battle like Scarif was nothing.

“How many losses?” He asks, and doesn’t miss Jyn’s flinch.

“A lot.” She says quietly, and Cassian nods. No doubt after a week the Alliance is already on the move again, intent on using the Death Star plans to bring it down soon.

The three of them sit in silence. All of their eyes are trained on the other two members of the team still unconscious.  _ Where’s- _ Cassian feels his stomach drop.

“Kay?” He asks, and Jyn glances at him with pity but- also something else. Something brighter.

“They’re rebuilding him now. I gave them the hard-drive chip you pulled from him,” Jyn said, and Cassian doesn’t even try to stop the smile that pulls at his mouth. Baze’s quiet jerk pulls their attention to the others, and Cassian feels something light in his chest as Chirrut stirs slowly in his bed.

_ Things are going to be okay,  _ Cassian tells himself, watching the relieved smile grow on Baze’s face.  _ It might take a while, but we’ll make it. _

**Author's Note:**

> idk when I'll get the next part of the series out but......i will at some point. i promise. *hides three other unfinished fics from view*


End file.
